


Hail to the King

by ConcernedBrows



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Blacksmithing, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Growing Up, Half-orc, Hurt/Comfort, Imperials (Elder Scrolls), Loss of Innocence, Lust at First Sight, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character Death, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orphans, Pre-Skyrim Main Quest, Semi-Public Sex, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, Skyrim Spoilers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stormcloaks (Elder Scrolls), female blacksmith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24768214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConcernedBrows/pseuds/ConcernedBrows
Summary: Elizaveta "Liv" Alensveson longs for more than just Riverwood, her passions lie in the forge, with hopes and dreams to become a household name. When her wish is granted she is thrown into a world of war, politics, lust, love, familial duties, and a legend bigger than she could ever hope she would be. What do the divines have planned for her, and how does it tie into the one they call Dovahkiin?Full-on rewrite of a story of mine by the same name, rated E for future chapters.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Female Character(s), Ulfric Stormcloak/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Riverwood

Sparks showered the night sky as Liv’s hammer strikes the red hot steel blade in front of her. She pauses for a moment, bringing her arm up to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her teacher and good friend Alvor stood behind her letting his blade heat up in the forge. Both of them are drenched in sweat after working for the last sixteen hours, slaving away over the most recent order from the Imperials. One hundred shortswords, one week, no if, ands, or buts. Alvor couldn’t say no to a favor from his favorite nephew, Hadvar. Also being a devout Imperial supporter, his enthusiasm was contagious, making Liv work harder to impress him. Liv on the other hand tried to remain impartial to either side, keeping her political thoughts in her head. Being the daughter of both a Nord and an Imperial, her heart was torn. 

An order of this size normally wouldn’t be an issue, but the Imperials demanded some sort of unique filigree be cast into the handle. Liv quenched the blade in her hand, setting it aside to take the heated blade from Alvor’s hands. She brought it to the workbench, bringing down her hammer upon it. “We will finish this one up and continue at first light tomorrow,” he said, voice thick with exhaustion. Liv sighed heavily, already dreading it as it was already well past midnight. 

“You go on in ahead of me, you’ll need the rest more than I will, old man.” She smiled at him, earning a chuckle. 

“If you insist,” he said wiping his hands on the dingy apron, she could just barely make out the smile on his face in the firelight. She shooed him off, turning to finish hammering the fuller into the perfect thickness. Riverwood was serene at this time of night, hardly a sound to be heard. Things down at the Sleeping Giant would be winding down, Delphine ushering out the local drunk and ner do well. Pretty soon Liv would see Faendal half-carrying Embry to his porch, where he would leave him before returning to Faendal’s bed in the lumber mill. As she continued couldn’t help but want to groan, this was the most work that she had done since coming on as Alvor’s apprentice.

Growing up on a farm only prepared her for so much, and most of the smithing was rather repetitive. Part of Liv felt nostalgic for the crops and her uncle Severio, but he always knew that she wasn’t cut for that kind of work. He and Liv knew that one day she would become the most renowned blacksmith in Skyrim. Hopefully, one day even working for Kings directly, not just doing mind-numbing work for low-level soldiers. Alvor always praised her for the little details she worked out so well, even letting her keep her first real sword. Unsure if she would ever have to use it, Liv kept it locked up tight in a chest at the foot of her bed, wrapped up in her late mother’s cloak. 

Liv turned and quenched the last blade of the night, just in time to hear drunken singing down the road. She leaned on the railing, watching Faendal struggle to keep Embry moving. “Like clockwork, the man of the hour.” she joked to them, earning a boisterous laugh from Embry. 

“Faendal says it is time for bed!” he shouts as the wood elf desperately tries, and fails to shush the old fool. “I disagree, the night is young and you missed Sven and I singing Ragnar the Red!” 

“I’m sure I didn’t miss much, now head to bed you drunken fool. Some of us work at dawn.” Liv tried not to encourage him, earning a grateful look out of Faendal.  
“Try and make it down tomorrow, it’ll help give me a chance with Camilla. She’s been asking about you,” Faendal called out as he pushed Embry over onto the man’s porch, in the moonlight Liv could barely make out the playful twinkle in his eyes. 

“I’ll try, but it all depends how much we get done tomorrow,” she smiled at the elf, “but you know I will try my damndest, I’ve been aching for a pint.” Part of her felt disappointed, being of age Liv always wondered if she would settle down. But the only eligible bachelors in Riverwood were either drunks or fawning over Camilla Valerius, the thought had a tiny green monster surfacing in Liv’s mind.

“Fingers crossed, night!” he waved, making his way across the narrow bridge towards the mill. Liv smiled at his retreating figure and walked across the porch, sneaking into the front door, trying not to make a sound. The fire in the hearth crackled, providing a bit of light for her to navigate the quiet house and flop into bed. Beside her Alvor’s young daughter stirred slightly before turning over and mumbling something about being a great soldier. Liv smiled at the girl's ambition, kicking off her boots, but she lacked the energy to even crawl under the covers she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

**

Daybreak came quickly just as Liv feared, Alvor shaking her gently to wake her. “Let’s go, kid, one more day and we can be done,” he whispered, trying not to wake the sleeping Dorthe. Liv grumbled and got up, slipping her feet into her boots and retying her mass of auburn waves at the back of her head. Sigrid smiled at the girl, handing her a bowl of hot porridge. 

“Just think, tonight we can all have a drink and celebrate the end of this massive order.” Sigrid tried to sound as encouraging as she could as Liv shoveled food into her mouth. Liv smiled at her fondly, over the last year in Riverwood Sigrid quickly became the mother Liv never had. After her parent’s death seventeen years ago she never got a female role model until late in her life, and before Liv got used to it she was off to Riverwood. She knew that Nimriel was a good influence on her uncle though, and for that she was grateful. 

“Thank you, Sigrid, I’ll see you at lunchtime. Don’t let Alvor work us through, I don’t think he wants to see me on another day of no lunch.” Liv smiled, winking playfully at the older man and setting her bowl in Sigrid’s outstretched hands, the older woman smiling. 

“You can guarantee I will make him stop, he’s become a grouch in his old age when he doesn’t get his afternoon snack.” Sigrid joked and Liv laughed, earning a scowl from Alvor who grumbled into his breakfast. 

“Very funny Liv,” he smirked and Liv knew she was in for it now, “guess who just earned herself sharpening duty.” She groaned, getting up from the table.

“Fine, you’re the boss,” she said, slipping out the front door. The morning air was crisp, the fresh smell of oncoming fall in the air. Summer would be coming to an end before she knew it. Making her way to the grindstone she began to get started, grabbing a shortsword from the crate beside her. Leave it to Alvor to give her the most tedious of the day's tasks, I know he’ll just take his time getting out here to prove some kind of lesson, Liv thought to herself. While she worked away she thought of all the things she could do to finish up faster and get to the Inn for a mead. Her mouth watered at the thought. 

By the time that Alvor joined her, it was nearly an hour later, and by the grin on his face, Liv knew that there might be some hope for them today. “I just received a letter from Legate Rikke herself, and they do not need us to send sharpened swords. They have someone at the camp outside Falkreath.” 

“Oh thank Stendarr,” Liv breathed a sigh of relief, immediately tossing the sword she was working on into the crate full of the other ones. “It’s nice they don’t expect the world of us for once.” 

“You can say that again,” Alvor reached over and began stroking the embers, “if we make good time we will be done by late afternoon.” 

“Then, we have to celebrate, at least for tonight.” Liv smiled, getting up from her place at the grindstone.

“Yes, then Sigrid and I will make our way to Whiterun on Middas.” Alvor patted Liv on the shoulder, “you don’t mind caring for Dorthe again? We shouldn’t be gone more than a few days, Legate Rikke says a caravan will be nearby there to take the swords to Falkreath.” 

“Not at all, she is a good kid. I’ll keep her busy here till you’re back.” Liv smiled, unburdened. Alvor nodded, returning to his work. The two were quiet, working as quickly and efficiently as they could. Liv peered out of the corner of her eye, noticing Faendal leaning on the railing of the sawmill. For a brief moment, she thought he might be staring at her until Liv heard the familiar sing-song voice of Camilla arguing with her brother, disappointment settling into her belly. It would always be Camilla, maybe Uncle Severio was right, she wouldn’t find the entire world in little old Riverwood. 

The morning sped by and by the afternoon it warmed up considerably. The roof of Alvor’s shop just barely hiding them from the rath of the late summer sun. The two worked tirelessly, until around three in the afternoon, and Liv leaned against the railing trying desperately to fan herself as Alvor finished what she hoped was the last shortsword. As he tossed it into the pile Liv clapped, cheering him. “Never again do we agree to this much in such a short period,” he said firmly.  
“I’ll hold you to that Alvor, don’t let the coin or Hadvar sway you otherwise.” Liv crouched down, counting once more to make sure that nothing was forgotten. 

He shook his head at her and ushered her back to her feet. “I’ll finish up today, you go on, bathe and go get a drink. Sigrid has your wage in the house. Help yourself to a good meal at The Sleeping Giant,” Liv beamed at him, not staying for a second in case he changed his mind. 

“Thank you Alvor!” she shouted at him, quickly running towards the front door to grab fresh clothes. Just before she disappeared into the house Liv was distracted by the sounds of a horse galloping down the road. A cloaked man sat atop a large black horse, its mane wild as the two of them sped through town, almost running over poor, old, Hilde. He was gone so quickly that Liv didn’t get to see his face. 

“Hey slow down!” She heard Alvor exclaim, running down his steps towards the retreating figure. He huffed, swearing loudly before making his way towards Hilde, who had been knocked over by shock, and helping her up. Sven rushed out of his mother’s house, quickly taking her arm and thanking Alvor. 

“What could that have been about?” she whispered to herself before heading back into the house, where Sigrid and Dorthe asked what the shouting was for.


	2. Of Dragons and Men

Most of Riverwood and the surrounding area used the spring for private bathing, laundry, and lovers trysts. It wasn’t a large pool of water, but it was deep enough that most people found it easy to swim and relax for a while. The small cave it hid away in was only a fifteen-minute walk from Riverwood, and it was complete with a small waterfall. Every time she came here she was reminded that there was no way she would find something like this in Whiterun its plains vast, mostly taken up by farmland.

Liv shed her sullied dress quickly and stepped into the cool, refreshing waters. She submerged herself briefly, she scrubbed aggressively, trying to get most of the debris off of her face and out of her hair. This was the first time this week she got to enjoy a full bath and her slightly forge burned face welcomed the chill. Liv relaxed back and floated for a while her skin breaking out in gooseflesh, sure that no one would be coming by anytime soon. 

In a month it would be her eighteenth birthday and the seventeenth anniversary of her parent’s death. Every year Severio would tell her the story of how Bandits killed them trying to steal their goods, and that her father fought them off as much as he could. Liv herself didn’t remember anything from that fateful day but thanks to her rescuers she knew of some details. After two days in the early winter weather, a passing caravan of Khajiit’s found her, fed her, and after some investigation, took her where she needed to go. Unlike the rest of Skyrim, Liv could never hate the cat-like folk, their kindness surpassing any rumors of their misdeeds. She never understood the need to ostracize them from society. Sure some were thieves, but then again so were men, elves, and orcs. No one was any better than the other.

By the time she swam over to the edge of the spring Liv’s lips were starting to turn blue. She hauled herself to her feet and wrought as much water from her hair that she could as she walked over to the small patch of sun nearby and let herself warm up. Looking down at the reflection to her left she looked over her body, somewhat frustrated at what she saw. Liv knew she wasn’t unpretty by any means, but she felt she lacked the femininity that the other women in Riverwood had. Her hands were rough like a mans, arms toned and strong. Liv ran her hands down her sides, sighing dejectedly. She was more Nord in appearance than Imperial, that was for certain. Liv always felt pear-shaped, modest breasts with a thin, toned waist and large, well-rounded hips. Freckles dotted her entire body like a thick rash, she felt her eyes were small, a nose too large for her face. Someone like her friend Camilla knew how to charm men, and was poised about how she held herself. Liv, on the other hand, would rather slam back ales and work with her hands. Because of this, many of the men she happened to meet were put off by her, knowing straight away she wasn’t the graceful lady they could bring home to mom. 

“How does Adrianne do it?” Liv said aloud to herself, thinking of the smith back in Whiterun. The woman was beautiful, happily married to a strong, good looking Nord, and most of all ran a successful business. She threw her hands down in self-pity and turned to slip into her dry, clean clothes. Noticing it wasn’t her normal attire of men’s breeches and a loose top to work in, Liv smiled, knowing Sigrid must have switched the bundle around when she wasn’t looking. It was a pretty pale green dress, simple lacing in the front and sides. Liv made quick work of simply plaiting her hair back and exiting the cave with her dirty clothes. 

The sun began to sink a little lower in the sky, giving her eyes a bit of a break. The forests around the cave were quiet except for the chirp of birds and insects, all in all, it was a pretty peaceful day. Liv looked forward to buying herself a bowl of Orgnar’s delicious venison stew and a pint of mead, her mouth watered and her stomach gurgled with anticipation. She and Alvor sacrificed stopping for lunch so that they could finish up sooner, which in Liv’s mind was well worth it. 

She had scarcely made it to the path when she heard the heavy beat of wings above her, for a moment it felt like the sun disappeared behind a cloud. But when she looked up, Liv was stopped in her tracks. It glided through the air, over the river, its midnight scaled shining in the sun. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, disappearing behind Bleak Falls Barrow. Liv fell back her heart nearly stopping, swearing loudly. “It can’t be,” she muttered to herself, stunned.  
. 

***  
Liv ran the entire way back to Riverwood, and when she arrived, the village was abuzz with nervous excitement. Many of the citizens had made their way out of their homes and gathered around Hilde’s house. The town crazy stood arguing with her son, Sven about seeing a dragon, which in turn lured in an audience. Sven was red with anger and embarrassment. Liv’s blood ran cold, “It couldn’t have been a dragon mother, I think you’re seeing things again.” He said, trying to convince both the crowd ad his mother of her delusion. Faendal ran up to Liv breathing heavily. 

“Ralof is back,” he whispered to her, “and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Gerdur sent me away, and he brought another soldier with him.” She snapped her head in his direction, trying to look over her shoulder at the small group forming by the mill’s side. Watching Gerdur quickly usher her brother and another Stormcloak out of sight.

“I wonder what for? He never visits,” she whispered back, trying to grasp at what was happening. 

“I saw it, Sven, flying over the Barrows. He was black and larger than the sun!” Hilde nervously shouted at him, her voice wavering with fear. The poor old woman was paler than usual and visibly shaking, Liv placed a hand on her stomach in shock.

“I saw something fly over the Barrows Faendal,” the elf stared at her in shock, “I am not saying it is a dragon but it looked like something close to one. He was coming from the direction of Helgen.” 

“That’s where Ralof said he was coming from,” Liv raised her eyebrows at the elf who had a hand on her arm, gripping it almost painfully tight. “Something is going on Liv, I don’t like it.” She shook him off and quickly made her way back to the house, keeping one eye on the small crowd formed around Hilde and Sven. Faendal stared at her with wide eyes as she opened the front door. 

Before she knew it someone had her pressed against the wall beside the door, slamming it and locking it loudly. She let out a small scream before her mouth and nose were covered by a large hand. Looking at her attacker she tensed up, he was a young man with shaggy brown hair, donned in Imperial armor he pressed a small dagger to her throat. “Who are you?” he growled low, Liv’s eye wide and fearful. Alvor came up quickly behind him, throwing the young man back.

“Hadvar! This is Liv, my apprentice. She means no harm.” Alvor stood between them while Liv caught her breath. Hadvar’s face softened slightly, his brows remaining furrowed. “She can be trusted, try not to stab the poor girl.” Sigrid rushed over to Liv and took her in her arms. 

“As long as you’re sure Uncle.” Hadvar’s eyes never left the young woman, he was suspicious of her and Liv tensed, wondering if he too came from Helgen. 

“Are you alright?” Sigrid said trying to turn Liv to look at her, and not Hadvar.

“I saw something, flying over the Barrow, any idea what that might be?” Liv questioned the soldier, her tone accusing. His gaze abruptly changed from anger into fear, this putting the entire room on edge. He motioned for them to all sit around the table, where Sigrid brought him a tankard of what Liv assumed was something stronger than water. 

“There is a dragon in Skyrim,” he said after a long moment, Liv stared at him with fear settling in her belly. There was no mistaking what she saw now.

“There hasn’t been a dragon in hundreds of years!” Alvor exclaimed loudly.

“Keep your voice down.” Hadvar seethed, “we were in Helgen, Tullius, Rikke, two dozen soldiers, and I. Escorting a few carts full of Stormcloak prisoners, one of them being Ulfric fucking Stormcloak himself.”

“What was he doing this far south?” Alvor leaned onto the table, his hands clasping Sigrid’s, she was white as a sheet and gripped him firmly to steady herself. 

“We think he was trying to stake claim to the camp in Falkreath, or maybe even make a statement to Whiterun hold. Either way, we caught him and put him up to be executed. The dragon came suddenly and killed most of my men. Interrupting us.” Hadvar slammed a fist down on the table, “ I don’t know who got out of the before Helgen burned to the ground. I scarcely got out of there myself. I just know that bastard Ulfric escaped, he must have had something to do with this. The Stormcloaks must have something planned.” Liv stared at him, her jaw clenched. 

“It must be him and those blasted Greybeards. They know all about Dragons, and I am certain that they found a way to bring one back.” Alvor’s tone was venomous, he hated Ulfric almost as much as the entire Empire. Hadvar nodded in agreement, while Sigrid and Liv sat there in silence. The gravity of the situation weighing heavily down upon them. “What will you do next Hadvar?” 

“I should rush to Whiterun, it is neutral ground and I would rather not run into Stormcloaks alone.” He muttered, taking a swig from the tankard. Hadvar’s hands trembled. 

“Liv will get you situated and ride with you first light, she knows the off beaten path. Hopefully, it will allow you to go unseen from any prying eyes.” Alvor half suggested, half told the young girl. She only nodded, looking over at Hadvar. “I have clothes you can use, and provisions for the trip, it should only take you half a day to get to Whiterun.”

“If we take the side roads we will be there an hour before suppertime,” Liv corrected, “But I will make sure we get there almost unseen. My uncle is loyal to the Empire, and will host us if needed.” Alvor nodded and stood, making his way to the dresser. Throwing more mundane clothes at Hadvar.

“Change. Keep a low profile if you can, we can’t have the town finding out that Ulfric is loose and around Riverwood. It may cause some nerves to be frayed. Do not tell a fucking soul what you two have seen.” There was a slight hesitation from Hadvar and Liv, “swear it.” Alvor said from behind clenched teeth, the two nodded. 

“Rest up in the bed Hadvar, you look exhausted.” Sigrid quickly got to her feet, ushing her nephew to the bed. 

“Liv, go to the tavern,” Alvor thrust a small bag of coins in her hand. “Eat, drink, laugh with your friends. But be home before late” 

“Alvor. Before I go, you should know that Ralof is in town, he brought another soldier with him,” Liv warned him in a hushed tone. 

“I will keep Hadvar here. The last thing we need is the two of them have it out with each other in the streets.” He whispered, “I worry that Ralof may be out for blood,” turning Liv and pushing her towards the front door. The two walked out, Alvor bringing his Dorthe back into the house. The young girl looked at Liv curiously, who just shot back an unconvincing smile. The small crowd around Hilde’s dissipated and all seemed back to normal. It was as if nothing had happened, so Liv smoothed out her dress and undid the plait in her hair, letting it hang free against the small of her back. She took a few deep breaths, hopefully bringing the color back into her face. With that, she made her way towards the Sleeping Giant, coin in hand.

***

The stew wasn’t as rich as Liv thought it would be, and the meat tasted sour in her mouth. From the looks of Faendal and Camilla at the table, though Liv knew it was just her that felt that way, the two laughings at something Faendal was joking about. She found it hard to get the image out of her mind, the sound of wings beating high in the sky, the shine of black scales glistening in the sunlight, and the blood-curdling roar of a Dragon. Never in her life did Liv think she’d get to see one up close and personal, she longed to tell her friends. But, between Alvor’s words and the reaction that Hilde got she knew it was futile. 

Sven stood near the firepit, strumming a familiar tune on the lute. The inn was no more busy than normal, typical for a Morndas night. “Liv, we should go for a swim tomorrow!” Camilla said loudly, enough to break Liv from her train of thought. 

“Wish I could, but Alvor has me heading to Whiterun tomorrow,” Liv said, trying to look as disappointed as her friend.

“But why? Can’t you wait and go the next day?” she pleaded, her full lips almost pouting. You could never tell that Liv was almost four years younger than her friend with the way she behaved, the cutesy act worked on the men, but Liv saw right through it. 

“My uncle sent a letter. There is an emergency at the farm I guess, he needs me to help out for a few days.” Liv lied through her teeth. 

“Well, then you owe me big time when you get back!” Camilla frowned, “We never spend any time together, and I have so much I need to tell you!”

“Had Lucan found the Claw yet?” Liv took another bite of her stew, the warmth filling her belly. 

“No, I don’t think we ever will. He’s too much of a chicken to go to the Barrows and get it himself. I told him I would go, but no, I must mind the store.” Camilla huffed, pushing her half-eaten bowl away from her, opting to take a long drink of wine. Faendal hung on her every word, Liv rolled her eyes at him. “But maybe I’ll just hire someone when he isn’t looking. I’m sure it can’t be that hard…” Camilla paused, getting a glint of mischief in her eyes, “or maybe I will just go on my own.”

Liv chocked on her food, “You? She swallowed, “you couldn’t even get to Whiterun and back without an escort! How do you expect to navigate the Barrows?” Liv laughed at Camilla’s expression. 

“Whatever do you mean!” she feigned offense, holding a hand dramatically to her chest. 

“I mean I hate to say it, Liv is right.” Faendal laughed, “I’d take you if you wanted me to.” Camilla ignored Faendal who was too busy gazing at the young woman through his dark lashes to notice that he put his elbow down into his half-eaten dinner. 

“You know Liv, I think you should wear dresses more. Orgnar keeps staring at you like you’re a two-headed beast.” Camilla teased and Liv turned a lovely shade of red. Embarrassed, Liv looked down at her stew suddenly more self-conscious than ever.

‘Last time I wear a dress.’ Liv thought to herself sourly. Faendal quickly noticed her awkwardness and changed the subject towards order more drinks. She looked at him mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ while Camilla was distracted by Sven. 

Faendal turned to whisper to her, “meet me by the mill when I head home. We need to talk.” Liv felt herself grow cold, Alvor’s words of warning echoing in her head.

**

Liv left around eleven at night, a little tipsy from the mead. Trying to fake a sense of normalcy for appearances’ sake, Faendal on the other hand never fell for her rouse. Her friends opted to stay behind, Faendal promising to look after Camilla. Which to Liv meant, ‘I’m going to try and keep her from Sven,’ but the look he gave her suggested she better show later. 

When she got to the house she found Hadvar standing near the forge, looking out over the balcony towards the still lumber mill. The night was quiet except for the soft sound of rushing water. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, startling him for a moment. Hadvar turned and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the woman. 

“No, doesn’t seem like it.” he turned back as she came to stand beside him. Studying him for a moment in the moonlight he appeared older than he was, the war already taking its toll on him. “I owe you an apology, for threatening you before, I-”

“It’s forgiven,” she interrupted, “you’ve been through a lot Hadvar. I can’t imagine I would do much differently if I were in your situation.” He relaxed beside her a bit, peering at her from out of the corner of his eye. 

“Thank you then,” Hadvar struggled with small talk, that much was obvious to Liv. “My Uncle says that you’ve been here for a year now, then before that on a farm by Whiterun?” 

“Yes, I was born in Windhelm, but my parents passed when I was a year old. I’ve been with my Uncle there ever since.” she nodded at him, watching the weeds drift through the water. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” he turned more to face her, and she looked up at him sideways through her lashes. 

“I don’t remember them, so it’s okay. I appreciate your kindness though.” Liv smiled half-heartedly at him, the forced pity always making her uncomfortable. She looked away and cleared her throat. “Alvor has told me though, that you and I are from similar backgrounds. Though yours were lost to war.” 

“Aye. Though I have the curse of remembering them more vividly then you’re able,” he said solemnly. Liv knew that she was lucky in this, as she knew that memories sometimes cut much deeper after a great loss. 

“They’d be proud of you, you know. I know Alvor is,” Hadvar began to smile as she continued, “I don’t think a day goes by your uncle doesn’t sing your praises. When you write... Oh, I don’t think there is a happier man in Riverwood. But don’t tell him I said that, you know that man had a bigger ego than Ulfric Stormcloak.” Liv hesitated, cringing a little as Hadvar flinched at the mention of Ulfric’s name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Hadvar’s lips pursed in the thin line. She grimaced, tempted to excuse herself after that. But before she could fully turn to go, he grasped her forearm gently. “It’s not your fault, I know that. You can’t know what happened, not completely.” She instinctively placed a hand on his arm as he chided himself. “I need to be better tempered if I plan on being a General someday.”

“You can tell me if it will help.” She said barely above a whisper before removing her hand. He nodded, letting her go and resumed staring back out over the balcony. 

“You know, you’re not so bad for a Nord,” he said playfully and Liv grinned, feeling a heat rush to her cheeks.

“Half Nord you mean.” she elbowed his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Imperial Influence

The dawn was cool and Liv found she had to wrap her cloak tighter around her shoulders to keep out the chill. Hadvar and her strapped on simple packs equipped with all they would need for the day's trip, and Liv’s trip home.

“Now, stay safe you two,” Sigrid said fussing over Liv, tightening the straps on her pack twice over. 

“Yes auntie, we will be fine. Liv will be back before you know it.” Hadvar smiled at his Aunt, giving her a farewell kiss on the cheek. He walked over and gave his Uncle a large hug, and the older man feigned dislike before quickly crushing his nephew to his chest. 

“Liv?” Dorthe tugged on the edge of her clock.

“Yes, what do you need.” She bent down to Dorthe’s level, smiling at the young girl.

“Would you bring me back a present?” she whispered. Liv chuckled at her and nodded, “maybe a new doll? Or a dress for my old one?” 

“You bet I can. I think I might be able to find the perfect one.” Liv winked at her before the little girl threw her arms around Liv’s shoulders. “‘I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can read together.” Dorthe smiled brightly and ran over to Hadvar who swept her up in a big bear hug. 

****

Liv looked up into the sky, which was heavily clouded over. Grimacing, she feared they might experience a bit of rain. Hadvar trailed a little ahead of her as they walked out of Riverwood, he held the map in his hands, brows furrowed. Liv jogged a little to catch up to him, leaning over his shoulder, dragging her finger across the well-loved map. “We’ll skirt the edge of the Throat of the World, and then follow the White River as close as we can before we reach the edge of Whiterun. My Uncle’s far is here,” she tapped the paper, “so once we get over the bridge we’ll have a straight shot there.” 

“Don’t think we will run into any trouble? Hadvar teased.

“No,” she countered, oblivious to his sarcasm, “Whiterun is the safest place in Skyrim right now I reckon.” 

“I know, I’m kidding.” he bumped her with his elbow. She then realized how close in proximity they were, blushing, she pulled his hood over his head. 

“Cover-up you milk drinker.” she huffed, grabbing a head start down the pathway.

“You’re just mad you’re not funny like me!” he called out to her, she turned around and shot him a glare.

“My humor is just more sophisticated than yours.” she rebutted, turning back to watch the trail ahead of her. “I don’t need sarcasm to make a joke.” She could hear his taunting laugh and she tried to hide a smile.

“I see how it's going to be,” he muttered, smiling at the redhead. The two walked most of the day in silence and Liv’s thighs burned a bit, not used to the long walk. She squinted up at the sky as a raindrop splashed on her cheek, pulling up her hood she inwardly groaned. 

The rain stayed constant their entire walk to Whiterun, Liv was soaked through to the bone, a chill resting there. “It’ll be nice to sit in front of a fire,” Hadvar said, peeking out at her from under his hood. 

“I couldn’t agree more, though it’ll be sooner for me.” she reminded him. 

“Only an hour, it's not that far from Whiterun.” Hadvar shrugged, he didn’t seem overly bothered by the rain. Liv shivered and kept her arms wrapped around herself. “I have a spare cloak if you want?” 

“No, I’ll be fine,” she scoffed at him, not wanting to seem weak. “Plus we’re nearly there.” Liv pointed as they stopped at the top of the final hill, Whiterun looming in the distance. 

“You know, it wasn’t so bad.” Hadvar smiled at her.

“What wasn’t.” she furrowed her brows.

“Your company, maybe uncle is right, you are to be trusted.” Liv reached over and punched his arm as he laughed. “I never have asked though, because I know a lot of people are prickly over the mention of the war. But whose side are you on?” Liv paused for a moment, uncertain of how to answer. On one hand, she believed in some of what the Empire wanted, but on the other, a part of herself loyal to all the divines believed in what the Stormcloaks were fighting for.

“I don’t believe I know how to answer that.” She rubbed her hands together nervously. “I think that each side has a strong argument, but I hate to say it in front of you. But, I am a supporter of Talos. He is every bit a Divine as the rest. So I can see it from a neutral middle I suppose.” 

“That’s fair, we are all allowed our opinions.” Hadvar remained stoic, not letting Liv see how undoubtedly bothered he was that she even remotely sympathized with the Stormcloaks. He wasn’t all that surprised though, she is a Nord in some shape or form. Liv dropped the subject, knowing that if she tried to explain further it would leave a sour taste in both parties' mouths. The awkwardness lasted the better part of the walk onto the main road, and Liv cursed herself internally knowing that Alvor wouldn’t let it go if he found out. 

“My uncle's farm is just up ahead this way,” Liv said awkwardly, “so I guess this is where we part ways.” 

“Look, Liv, I know we may not completely agree on the issues Skyrim faces, but I don’t think less of you.” Hadvar paused, stopping her from going forward. “You know, Solitude might need an elite smith someday. I hope you know that I will give you the highest recommendation. The Empire could use a strong woman like you in its rank.” Liv stood there silent, a heat blooming on her cheeks. “You know if you’re ever interested.” They smiled kindly at one another. 

“I will think about that Hadvar. I don’t think this will be the last time our paths cross.” she walked up to him, holding her hand out. He grasped it firmly, grinning madly at her. 

“Till we meet again,” he said quietly, letting her go and turning to walk down the path. She stood there for a moment, waiting to make sure he made his way west. Liv smiled to herself a bit, turning to approach the Pelagia farm.

Hunched over a small mound of dirt was a small Bosmer woman, Liv smiled as the woman pulled potatoes out of the earth. “You know those are some pitiful potatoes,” she calls out, the Bosmer turned to scowl at the voice but immediately softened when she saw who it was. “I think this farm has suffered without me.” 

“Liv,” Nimriel smiled widely, getting to her feet and the two women rushed each other. Nimriel swept her up into a large hug. “What are you doing here? Your uncle must’ve forgotten to tell me you were coming!” 

“He has no idea!” the two pulled apart and began walking up to the farmhouse. “I am just stopping through Whiterun for Alvor, thought it would be a good excuse to surprise you two.” 

“Your uncle will be so happy to see you,” Nimriel smiled widely, putting her arm around Liv’s shoulders. “Severio! Look who is here!” her uncle’s head snaps up from behind the chicken coup.   
“Well there is a face I recognize!” he smiled widely. Liv grinned, her uncle had barely changed since the last time she saw him. His brown locks tied back by a simple leather strap, kind brown eyes that wrinkled when he smiled, and the famous Pelagia chin. The two rushed to one another and Severio pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you Liv, it's too quiet here lately.” 

“I know, I’ve missed you as well. Things have been so busy at the forge, we’ve been supplying weapons to the nearby Imperial camps.” Liv squeezed the man’s middle before letting him go. 

“You’ve gotten taller,” he exclaimed, realizing she was almost as tall as he was. Liv blushed and shrugged, trying to slouch. “No, no, stand up straight. Be proud, your mother was always taller than I was. She teased me endlessly about it when we were kids, and don’t get me started about your father. I swear he must have had giant’s blood somewhere.” he rubbed her arms affectionately. 

“I think we should take that niece of yours out for supper tonight.” Nimriel half suggested half told. Severio nodded and smiled. 

“I’ll take my two best girls out for the best venison south of the capital.” Severio wrapped an arm around each woman. 

***

The Bannered Mare was packed, full of citizens of Whiterun celebrating. The Companions had taken down a Giant earlier that afternoon, as it had been terrorizing a nearby farm. Severio recounted the tale, seeing first hand the terror the Giant brought. Liv recognized tons of familiar faces and many old friends. The twins Vilkas and Farkas, pulled her into a large bear hug, almost squeezing the breath from her lungs. Insisting that she join the Companions. Liv insisted she would think about it, before retreating to her Uncle and Nimriel at their table. 

“So tell me,” her uncle paused, taking a long sip of mean, “how is everything in Riverwood? Anything exciting?” 

“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” Liv shook her head, trying to change the subject. She thought about Hadvar for a moment, hoping he made it to the camp alright. 

“Those two boys till fighting over that Valerius girl?” Nimriel smiled, cutting into her supper.

“I don’t think they’ll ever stop, honestly I don’t think Camilla even cares for them. She’s just in it for the attention.” Liv shrugged, looking about the room. 

“You’re of age, have you had any offers?” Severio asked seriously, Liv groaned.   
“No, Uncle. There isn’t exactly a wide variety to choose from.” She seethed from behind closed teeth. There was a loud cheer from across the tavern, as two figures clinked glasses with the Companions. 

“This is why you should’ve stayed in Whiterun,” he said quietly, Nimriel squeezing his leg, whispering something to him. Liv blushed in shame, knowing some truth to his words. 

“I think I need another ale.” Liv stood and stormed off towards the bar. Cursing herself, ‘this happens every time I come, all he fucking wants is for me to be married off like every other woman in the Empire.’ Too busy looking down at her feet she ran straight into a rather large body. “I’m sorry,” she snapped her head up seeing a rather large half-orc. His amber eyes shone down on her as he smirked, two very small tusks peeking out from his bottom lip. 

“You should watch where you’re going.” he scolded her, and she scowled. She tried to push past him and he chuckled, letting her shove him aside. 

“Fucking asshole.” she cursed, shooting back a venomous look at him. He shrugged and shot her a playful wink. Sticking her tongue out at him childishly Liv turned back to her destination. She set her mug back down on the counter of the bar, the barkeep nodded to her finishing his conversation up. The barkeep picked up a mug, drying it with a rag in his other hand.

“What can I do for you young lady?” he leaned towards her, “a refill I assume.” 

“Please, and it’s on Severio Pelagia’s tab please.” she slid over the mug and the barkeep grinned devilishly.

“Let’s make that two then. You must be his niece Liv.” he turned, pouring the ale skillfully into two mugs. 

“In the flesh.” he handed her the mugs, and she took a seat at the bar, taking a swig out of one. 

“It’s nice of you to pay him a visit, I’m sure he’ll stop moping about,” he said over his shoulder, filling another patrons glass. Liv felt guilt settle in her belly, knowing that no matter what Severio always wanted the best for her. He was as close to a father she would ever have. Liv downed her mug, setting it down with a loud thump. 

“I should go back to him, otherwise he will absolutely mope about.” she laughed awkwardly, thanking the barkeep. As she turned back towards the table Liv stopped in her tracks. A familiar head of blonde hair made its way over to her, and as people moved out of the way she felt her heart skip a beat. He was dressed in simple traveling clothes, a mug of ale in his hands. He looked her up and down, the corner of his mouth turned up. She froze in place, thinking to herself, ‘what the fuck is he doing here, he’s supposed to be in Riverwood.’ 

“Hello Liv, long time no see.” Ralof stopped in front of her, eyes meeting her wide ones. Liv felt her stomach churn at the sound of his voice. 

“Ralof,” she said quietly. Trying to look around him for an escape route. 

“Is that any way to greet your old friend?” he kept stepping forward, she met his pace until her back hit a solid wooden pillar. 

“I wouldn’t say friend at all.” Liv tried to make herself sound unbothered, but the blood rang in her ears. 

“Come on now, after my last visit to Riverwood?” Ralof teased her, an edge in his voice. Liv planted her hands on the pillar, trying to disappear within it. 

“Fuck off Ralof.” Liv looked him in the eyes, furrowing her brows. 

“I will, but first I have a favor I need from you.” He chuckled.

“What makes you think you’re in any position to ask anything of me.” she tried to slip past him, but he grabbed her arm. She winced at the force behind it, he yanked her close until she could feel his lips move against her ear. 

“Because it might have something to explain what I saw at Helgen,” he said, the hint of playfulness completely gone from his voice. Liv whipped her head around to look at him, her lips pursed and she allowed him to lead her out the front doors of the Bannered Mare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been tweaked in this universe, I couldn't bear to keep it completely canon.   
> Work has been pure insanity for me while reopening our shop, thank you quarantine haircuts... But finally, a third chapter, and bear with me because this one was stewing for a while in my noggin'. See you soon in the fourth chapter! Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	4. Favours and Barrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally - an update. Thank you for all who have favorited this story so far. I've been thinking about it a lot recently and it feels good to get back into writing (thank you Covid layoff lol). Enjoy!

Liv followed Ralof hesitantly, his hand refusing to let go of her forearm. Her curiosity surpassed the desire to flee the situation as he led her up the stone stairs to the Gildergreen. Waiting there was the half-orc from before. “You,” his voice was strangely melodic. 

“You two have met then?” Ralof sat her down on the bench between the two. 

“Briefly.” Liv folded her hands on her lap. In her mind, she plotted her escape, for before they loomed Jorrvaskr. ‘I could run for the doors if I need to, I’m not much smaller than Ralof but I am sure I can outrun him.’ 

“Perfect, then I am sure you’re the perfect person to be a guide.” Liv looked at him questioningly. 

“Jarl Balgruuf has enlisted my help in finding an artifact hidden in the depths of Bleak Falls Barrow.” The half-orc smirked beneath his beard, “and sadly, my sense of direction is rather lackluster.” Liv thought for a moment, maybe this stranger would help in getting the Golden Claw back. As jealous as she was of Camilla, she knew that the artifact meant the world to her brother. Lucan was a gruff and stern man at times, but a compassionate one when it counted. Liv paused for a moment, and Ralof tapped his foot impatiently. 

“There is something in the barrows I need to get myself, so I will take you. But only if you return that artifact to me once you come out.” Liv looked over the half-orc, who contemplated her offer. He stuck out his hand at her.

“You have a deal.” he smiled as she took his hand and shook it. “I will meet you at the stables tomorrow.”

“I will be there shortly after breakfast,” Liv said firmly, not allowing Ralof or the stranger another word. Getting to her feet she made her way back to the inn, wrapping her arms around herself she dare not look back. Ralof was enough trouble on a good day, ‘entitled prick,’ she thought. 

Severio and Nimriel sat cozily at their table in the corner. Nimriel nudged him in the side as Liv approached, “Liv, look, I am sorry for chastising you on being unmarried. I know you’re just trying to do better for yourself, and being married isn’t going to do much more for you.” Severio paused and Nimriel rolled her eyes at his awkwardness with Liv. She just shook her head and smiled.

“I know you’re just looking out for me.” Liv reached over and squeezed his hand affectionately. “But I am okay.” 

“How long will you be staying with us,” Nimriel asked, resting her hand back onto Severio’s knee. He smiled at the elf and then turned back to Liv.

“Just for tonight honestly, I will be leaving after breakfast tomorrow. I am walking back with a friend of mine, so we want to get an early start.” Severio’s face fell a bit. “I’m sorry for not staying longer, but I will come back to visit before the fall comes.” 

“You promise?” Severio raised an eyebrow at her, knowing how bad she was at making time for her family. 

“I promise.” Liv stole her uncle's mug of mead, taking a long sip of the honeyed drink. 

***

Liv barely slept that night, being in her old bed was nice, but she was plagued by dreams. The previous summer Ralof and a few of his Stormcloak buddies gave her a rough time at the riverside with Camilla. They said horrible things, and Ralof pressed her against a tree so roughly she felt his rising desire press against her. The thought alone made her feel nauseous, for the brat thought he was entitled to her womanhood, thankfully Lucan came by and threw him off of her. Camilla never stopped apologizing for that day well into the winter months. 

Standing outside of the farm she embraced Nimriel, “we are proud of you Liv. We know it's only a matter of time before everyone in Skyrim knows your name.” Her uncle was next, a long package at his side. It was wrapped in a thick leather tied tightly by a belt. 

“I think it’s time you took this with you.” he handed it to her, the package heavy in her hands. “Go ahead, open it.” Liv carefully knelt to the ground and undid the belt. Peeling back the layers of leather revealed a gorgeous blade. At a quick glance, it could’ve been mistaken for a normal steel blade, but as the morning sun hit it Liv gasped. The blade was forged from Damascus steel, a technique brought over by the Redguards, the different metals swirling together hypnotically. Engraved into the cross-guard was a language she had never seen before, the pommel shaped into a bear's paw. “It was your father’s. Jarl Hoag Stormcloak sent it to me not long after your parents were killed. Along with this.” He handed her down a rolled parchment sealed with wax. Liv hesitantly opened it, not wanting to wreck it. 

“I hereby decree that the household of Tjorvnolf Alensvenson and Saelene Pelagia be kept in their name. No other may reside in this home until their heir is of age to take their place among the people of Windhelm once more. Elizaveta Alensvenson - “ she paused, tears forming in her eyes. “A home?”

“Your home. It is your birthright as the Alensvenson heir.” Severio knelt down to her level and she threw her arms around him. “You are more than Riverwood, there is more opportunity waiting for you, whether it be here with Nimriel and me, or in Windhelm.” He paused, as she cried against his shoulder. “No matter what path you choose, you have our blessing.” 

“Thank you, Uncle.” sniffling the two separated and Severio helped Liv to her feet. Wiping the tears from her eyes, he smiled warmly. 

“Now travel safe, and we will see you soon.” He helped her sheath the large blade at her back, its weight comfortable enough for her to bear. Liv tucking the decree into her pack wrapped safely in her spare clothes. 

“I love you both.” Liv rubbed her eyes, walking down the path towards the stables. Severio and Nimriel waved till she was out of sight. 

“You did well Severio.” Nimriel kissed the man softly and he brought her close. Tears threatened to fall, and he knew his sister’s spirit would watch over her daughter. 

The half-orc leaned casually against a cart and smiled when she approached. “Good morning.” 

“Morning.” Liv paused, “you know, I don’t even know your name.” 

“Horirygg.” she raised an eyebrow and he raised his hands up in mock defense, “just Horirygg.” 

“Liv Alensvenson,” she said shortly, he held out his hand to help her into the carriage. She ignored it and heaved herself up, taking a seat near the front. 

“Well, this kind fellow is happy to take us halfway to Riverwood, thought it would make the trip a little easier.” Horirygg flashed her his best grin. 

“I appreciate the thought, it's not a short trip to the Barrows.” Liv adjusted her belongings, resting her father's sword on her lap, running her hands over the blade, and testing its sharpness. She winced a little, “still sharp,” she said under her breath. 

Horirygg watched her curiously, tying back half of his ebony curls. Some fell into his eyes, shielding the amber orbs. Liv watched him out of the corner of her eye, rebuffing his attempts of creating small talk. She had to admit to herself though, he was more human than orc. He held the strength and coloring of an orc. But his features were softer, tusks less noticeable, if it weren’t for his size Liv would’ve thought he was more Bosmer in appearance. 

About a kilometer out of Riverwood the carriage stopped, allowing the two to hop out. Liv thanked the driver and tipped him some gold from her purse. Together they made their way down the beaten path, the cobblestones fading into a dirt path. “It’s not going to be an easy walk, there are bandits camped out around here. So get ready for a fight if it comes down to it.” Liv warned him, her palms clammy. Alvor showed her how to use a blade, but she had never had the opportunity to actually use it in combat. 

“I’m not afraid of bandits,” Horirygg said from behind her, shedding his thick cloak for a while. Liv set a brisk pace, wanting to make it before the night fell around them. Once inside the Barrow, it would be infinitely easier to set up a camp with a decent defense. 

The mountain path was suspiciously quiet, the day getting colder with every passing hour. Liv pulled her fur-lined cloak closer to her, her breath visible in the dusk air. As the two passed through the small valley they were met with roaring winds. A storm fell around them with unrelenting force, Liv brought her cloak closer around her squinting her eyes to try and see the way. 

“Hold on, we are getting close!” Liv called over the volume of the wind, Horirygg moved closer to her, gripping her belt lightly. He nodded at her, and Liv knew that it would be too easy to lose each other in the blizzard. 

Thankfully just through the flurry of white Liv could just barely make out the looming structure of Bleak Falls Barrow. She nudged him with her elbow, and he noticed two archers standing by a small fire pit. They crouched down behind a snowdrift, and Horirygg pulled Liv close to him. The sun had begun setting, making visibility nearly impossible.

“Stay here, I will be back,” Horirygg said in her ear, before she could voice her displeasure Horirygg crouched down and made his way through the snow. 

“Fucker,” she said under her breath, secretly glad that the storm was there to provide cover. She waited till he was out of sight before taking a seat in the snow, rubbing her hands together to try and provide some kind of warmth. It was close to ten minutes before Horirygg’s figure skulked back through the snow. He had a bow slung over his shoulder, and when she raised an eyebrow he just shrugged.

“I like new things, and obviously they’re not going to need it anymore,” he smirked, and Liv rolled her eyes, “let’s keep moving, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else outside.”

“Good,” Liv smiled lightly, she took hold of his belt, letting him guide her up the steps toward the Barrow door. There was no one outside waiting for them, and Liv held her breath.

Horirygg cracked the door open, holding the bulk of its weight with his side. Liv could feel the heat of a fire just barely through the opening, and she could hear voices drift from the far end of the room. He nodded at her and they slipped inside, Horirygg slowly letting the door close behind them. They kept their hoods up, remaining crouched, and made their way slowly towards the voices. 

Liv mirrored every step Horirygg took, grimacing at any slight noise they made. He shot a glance back at her and motioned with his hands for her to stay put. Liv nodded and stayed crouched behind a large pillar in the center of the room. Horirygg began walking away from her, staying to the outskirts of the massive entry hall. Horirygg disappeared out of sight and Liv looked around the room. 

Her stomach churned at the sight of a half-rotted body in the corner to her right, she sent a prayer of thanks to Arkay that it was past the point of smelling. There were a few other corpses nearby, smaller, and quite clearly skeevers. ‘Just great,’ she thought to herself. 

There was a shriek and then a strangled sound of someone falling to the ground, Liv felt her heart hammer in her chest gripping the pillar anxiously. Suddenly there was a hand over her mouth and she shrieked turning to face her assailant. “Shhh…” Horirygg’s face came into view as he dropped his hand, and Liv smacked him on the arm. He let go of her arm and mock grimaced.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered. 

“Oh come on, did you really think I’d let some bandit get you.” Horirygg faked being wounded, his amber eyes remaining playful. “I scouted ahead and it doesn’t sound like anyone else is left.”

“I can agree with you,” Liv said pointing to the corpse in the corner. 

“Lovely,” he grimaced, “help me pile these bodies in the corner with that one, and then we can get some rest.” 

“Fine, let's make it quick.” Liv could feel her stomach do somersaults. 

“What? Have you never seen a body before?” Horirygg half teased but promptly dropped the smile on his face seeing how pale Liv got. “You know what, you sit by the fire there, and I’ll get these guys on my own.” 

“Are you sure?” Liv looked up at him as he helped her to her feet, she was positively queasy.

“You bet, I’ll be over soon to take the first watch.” Horirygg put his hand on her arm gently guiding her towards the small pit in the corner of the room. She nodded, avoiding looking at anything but the floor. Liv sat beside the fire and just gazed into the embers, ignoring the puddle of blood to her left. 

Horirygg quickly moved the bodies out of sight, looking at the young girl with pity. He hadn’t thought for a second that she wasn’t battle-worn in some sense, her hands were rough, and her maverick type behavior made it hard to believe she was really just a young woman.

He took his place across the fire from her, leaning against a nearby pillar. She took a few of her layers off, placing her gloves to the side and undoing the top button of her cloak. Horirygg looked at her curiously. She was quite pretty, for a Nord. Not his usual flavor of the month. 

Liv could feel his eyes trained on her, and she tucked a stray hair behind her ear suddenly shy. She wasn’t uneasy for once, which was a nice change of pace considering what happened the last time she was alone with a man. “Sleep, I’ll wake you when it's your turn to take watch.” Horirygg looked away from her briefly, and she laid down on the bedroll beside her. A wave of exhaustion hit her and Liv was out before her head hit the ground.


End file.
